Addiction
by Mandi5
Summary: Jack is addicted to something, but not what you imagine! JackNina um - other, I guess. Somewhat explicit - don't read if you are faint-hearted or afraid of cell phones! Part 11 now up. I thought I'd finished, but. . . . Please review!
1. Default Chapter

Addiction

By Mandi Sheridan

Part 1

The first time had been accidental. It had been the right time, the right place and without a doubt, the right position, he thought with a chuckle. But sometimes guilty pleasure finds its own home, moves in and settles down for a long stay.

He'd been dozing on his couch in the office. Pulling an all nighter, nothing was happening and he was bored and tired of waiting for the morning -home and his comfortable bed. Real sleep evaded him though. The background noises from downstairs, the gentle hum of computers, the muffled chatter of the one or two voices filtered in and out of his mind, enough to relax him but not enough to give him the deep sleep that he yearned for.

He shifted his weight off his left leg and stretched out along the couch, rolling halfway over onto his stomach, his jacket across his back and shoulders, not because he needed the warmth but just for the sense of comfort it gave.

His mind drifted. Ragged thoughts. Jumbled up. Here and there and everywhere. Teri laughing. Teri enticing him. Teri yelling at him. Hating him. Throwing him out of the house. He escaped from that place, back beyond it, back to where she still loved him.

"Are you sure 'bout this?" Her voice was slurred. Alcohol and lust combined to make her both eager and hesitant.

Her head was nestled between his legs, wedged under the steering wheel, probably not the most comfortable position she'd ever been in, but right now he didn't care. He just wanted her to get on with it. They were engaged after all. His jeans were down around his ankles somewhere - tangled around his feet and the brake pedal, and for a moment he wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or to his extremely hard cock

"He's sure and so am I," Jack whispered and his cock twitched in agreement.

"Well, okay then. But tell me if I'm doing it wrong," Teri whispered, pressing her lips against his head and the words, and the soft warm lips hummed up the shaft and into him, making him gasp.

She seemed to notice this and instead of taking him in her mouth she continued humming, barely making any noise, just touching him lightly, hardly at all it seemed, but enough to make him want more.

"Love you, Jack," she hummed over and over again. "Love you. Love you. Love you."

The words were dancing over him, up to the tip and back down again. Into his balls. Tightening them. Tormenting them.

"Love you too, baby," he leaned his head back and moaned. This was better than he expected. Not the frantic, inexperienced sucking he'd expected. This was delicious. This was sheer fucking heaven!

His cock twitched again in agreement. "You'd better believe it!" it seemed to say.

Teri grew bolder. Opening her mouth and taking him in slowly, her tongue circling around, exploring him. Tasting him. And still with the silent rhythmic humming that came from deep in her throat. Still with this fucking agonising, electrifying humming! This was driving him crazy. He couldn't believe it. She was amazing! She was gonna be his wife! He was so in love with her. This was unbelievable! He was going to come any second now and . . . . . . .

"Jack! Answer your god damned phone please!"

Jack wakened. Dazed. Lost. Disorientated. And with a hard on that felt like hot steel.

He blinked and sat up, his jacket falling onto the floor as Nina stepped into the office, and his cell phone fell out of his trouser pocket. She reached down and picked it up and looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." She still stared at him. She had a look on her face. Her eyes glanced down briefly to his crotch then back up to his face.

"I was calling your cell for ages," she said. "Why didn't you answer?"

He knew she'd seen it. He could tell by her face that she'd seen it. He blushed. Dammit! He blushed! And she'd seen him blushing. And she knew.

"I can always call back," she said, her face the picture of innocence as she handed him back the phone.

* * *

To be continued as soon as Jack re-charges the battery! 


	2. Part 2

Part 2.

He briefly wondered if this was legal. There was bound to be some legislation against it. Especially while driving. But it was hands free. Surely that would count in his defence. Wouldn't it?

Ah, who cares?

He pulled over, parked up, leaned his head back and waited. And waited. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Nothing.

Shit. Something was wrong.

Jack reached into his trousers and pulled his cell-phone out of his Speedos. He'd taken to wearing them because they were nice and tight and held the phone in place, tucked alongside his cock and right up against his balls. He didn't want it slipping and falling out of the bottom of his trousers onto the floor in front of everyone. Oh, no. We don't want that at all. That would be bad. Imagine if it fell out in front of Mason or Chappelle. Oh, no.

"What? Is this the only action you can get these days, Jack?" He could picture Mason's smirk.

"At least I'm getting some, George." He would hit back, if he had to. He couldn't be as snarky as Mason. No one could. The man was a master. But if it came down to it, if he was standing there with his cell phone vibrating all over the floor at his feet, that's what he'd say back at him.

Things were bad enough since she'd discovered his secret but if that happened he'd be destroyed.

But Nina never said a word. Didn't have to. It was written all over her face. She knew.

He'd tried to explain to her that it had been accidental. That the phone had been in his pocket and the way he was laying on the couch when it rang . . . and he was half asleep . . . and it was pressing against his . . . and . . . shit!

She'd just smiled.

"Don't call me, Jack. I'll call you."

And she did. About ten times a day. The bitch had him on speed dial. He hated her. He wanted her to call him twenty times a day. He wanted her to call right now while he was parked, semi-hard and waiting.

"Call. Damn you!"

He looked down at the phone now in his hand. There was no signal. It wasn't Nina's fault. He was in a black spot.

"Shit!"

To be continued as soon as Jack can get a signal.


	3. Part 3

Part 3.

"Let me try." Nina held out her hand.

"What? Are you kidding?"

"Aww come on, Jack. Lemme have a go, please."

Jack looked shocked. He also looked and felt very foolish standing there naked in a hotel room in Santa Barbara with Nina, also naked but not so foolish looking – quite tasty in fact – and holding his phone defensively behind his back.

He had known he was in trouble when she came out and told him what she knew.

"Tried to call you earlier Jack." She had said, biting her bottom lip seductively, yet still managing to keep that nothing-melts-in-my-mouth innocent expression on her face. "Last night, too."

"What did you want." He'd stuttered a reply.

"Nothing." She'd smiled. "I just wanted to check that your cell phone was – um – y'know . . . . working properly."

She understood his habit. She thought it was sexy.

"Its phone sex," she named it for him.

"It is NOT phone sex!" He'd yelled. "Phone sex is when you call someone and they talk dirty to you."

Nina had smiled. "Trust me, Jack. This is phone sex. Real phone sex. Really, really hot phone sex."

That had been it. Thirty seconds later they were locked in Tech Room Four, ripping off buttons, pulling down panties, skirts and trousers. Unhooking bras – well, one bra anyway – Jack hadn't stooped that low. Not yet. One look and they were kissing, grabbing and biting each other, and hard at it like sex-starved rabbits.

Now here they were – their first chance to get away for a weekend.

Santa Barbara had been her idea. She liked the scenery.

They hadn't seen any scenery other than the wallpaper and the cracks on the ceiling, but he didn't mind, though he could use something to eat. Steak preferably. He needed to get his strength back.

But his appetite drained away now. What she was suggesting was downright weird.

Nina saw the look on his face. "What? You think I mean. . . . Oh no! That is so not what I meant!" Nina tried to look shocked but an evil grin spread over her face. She licked her lips. "Mind you, it is worth considering. . . "

"NO!" Jack yelled, backing away from her.

"All right! Jeez! Don't get all bent out of shape! Keep your stupid phone. I only wanted to hold it against you while you dialled it!"

"Oh." Jack grinned sheepishly. "Well, okay then."

Nina snatched the phone from him. "Lie down on the bed," she ordered.

"Now you take mine and hit one on the keypad. No. Not yet. Just lemme get it positioned. Is that where you like it?"

"Uhh, down a bit."

"There?"

"No. Up a little."

"There?"

"Too far. Go down again."

"There?"

"Yeah. Kinda. Maybe just a slight bit to the left."

"Jesus Jack! Make up your mind! I could put it behind your ear if you want!"

"No. That's okay. That's fine."

Nina sighed with relief.

"Is the battery fully charged?"

"Yes."

"You're sure you have it on vibrate?"

"YES! IT IS PERMANENTLY ON VIBRATE! NOW DO IT!"

"No, you do it. I hold it and you dial it."

"Oh. Right. I forgot."

Jack fumbled with Nina's cell phone. He hit the speedial. Waited a couple of seconds. Nothing happened.

Nina looked up.

"You did dial one, didn't you?"

"Think so."

She looked at the screen. Oh shit!

"Clear it Jack! Quickly! You idiot! You dialled three. That's Mason's number!"

"Hello? Hello? Who is this?" They could hear George's annoyed voice.

Jack dropped the phone like it was hot. "Maybe we should just forget it and have regular sex?"

"No," Nina sighed wearily. "Let's get dressed, have a bite to eat and a few drinks. We'll try again later."

To be continued after Jack finishes his steak.


	4. part 4

Part 4.

Sometimes life was just one slow-motion kick in the balls. At least, according to the wisdom of Jack Bauer it was. Every now and then you could freeze-frame the pain away for a few minutes but it always came back with a vengeance.

Teri had taken him back and he'd ended his affair with Nina which was the decent, wise thing to do. Or so he'd thought at the time.

"No Jack."

"Huh?"

"I said no."

"Why not?"

Teri sighed. "I've already explained. I don't want to have sex with you."

"Ever?" Jack asked, worried now.

"I don't know. Let's take our time. We're friends again, that's a start."

She'd let him move back in again ages ago, but so far she had refused to let him near her, and he'd never been so sexually frustrated in his life. Nina was still huffing, refusing to speak to him let alone call, so he couldn't go there, and dialling himself just made him feel like a pervert.

"Okay, so I'm a pervert," he accepted it with a shrug of his shoulders and dialled his cell phone.

"Ugggmmmppphh. Oh yeah! Oh, that's good. That really hits the spot! Mmmmmm . . . ."

"Jack? Have you seen this phone bill!" Teri walked into the bedroom.

He panicked and hung up quickly.

"What's wrong?" She looked at him, a worried frown on her face, the phone bill thankfully forgotten.

"Cramp. Better now. Gotta Go. Bye."

He took off, glad to get out of the house. This reconciliation and partially renewed domestic bliss was all well and good, but it didn't leave a guy with much time or privacy to spend - er – on the phone.

He wished Nina would call even if it was only out of spite.

Head bowed, hands deep in his pockets and with his shoulders slumped, Jack Bauer went for a walk to take his mind off what he wasn't getting any more.

He left his cell phone at home.

* * *

To be continued when Jack cheers up a bit. 


	5. Part 5

Part 5.

". . . so he made me call him like twenty times a day! Sometimes more. We only ever had sex – real sex – once. In Tech Room Four and even that lasted only a couple of minutes, and. . ."

Oh, way too much information there, Tony thought with a grimace.

". . . that included a smoke afterwards. But once I figured out what he was doing with his phone, and made the mistake of telling him that I knew, we never did it again. You can imagine how frustrating it was for me. . . "

Tony Almeida lay back, closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't interested, as his hot new girlfriend - Nina - prattled on about the ex-love of her life – Jack Bauer - but inside he was rubbing his hands in glee and screaming - "Excellent! Excellent!"

This was the ammo he need. The last piece of the puzzle. The nail in the coffin. "Excellent! Excell. . ."

"Are you listening to me?" Nina propped herself up on one elbow.

"What?"

"You weren't even listening?"

"I was."

"What was I talking about then?"

"Um – phone sex with Bauer." Tony was fortunate he had good recall.

Satisfied that he had really been listening to her, Nina lay back down beside him and continued.

"What really bugged me about him was that when he wasn't tucking his hot little vibrating cell phone down the front of his trousers, he was prattling on and on and on and on, like forever it seemed, about how much he loved and missed his precious Teri. Like I cared or something? Honestly. . . . I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?"

"Tony. Tony Almeida. The guy you work with and who you've only been dating for two months now."

"Yeah? Right. Sorry. I'm hopeless with names. I almost called you George a couple of times on account of me going out with him before I started dialling – I mean - dating Jack. Remind me to tell you a couple of good stories about Mr Smirksalot Mason some day. Anyway, I was saying that Jack really pissed me off the way he never stopped talking about her. Such a good wife and mother. His childhood sweetheart. She managed to get back into her size 8 jeans just two weeks after Kimmie was born. Oh, and she breast-fed while she did the housework. Yeucch! I used to have to sit there, in our special out-of-the-way-no-one-will-see-us-having-an-affair-here restaurant, glass of wine in one hand, the other propping my head up so he wouldn't know I was falling asleep, gasping for a cigarette. . . ."

Tony was gasping for a cigarette too, even though he'd never smoked in his life. Moments like this could make a guy start.

". . . . I mean really, really gasping for a smoke, but I had to sit there, with a big happy smile stuck on my face, listening to his description of Mrs. Stepford, and do you know what I did?"

"No. Go on. Tell me. This is really interesting," Tony lied.

"I rang his cell!" Nina grinned.

"No!" Tony gasped in mock surprise and awe. "You didn't!"

"I did! I slipped my hand into my pocket and dialled him! Without him knowing! You should have seen the look on his face! Because, and this is the funny part, he had the phone sitting on the table beside him. He was, like, so _disappointed_. It was fucking hilarious!"

"I'll bet it was," Tony said, all the while thinking this kind of pillow talk was how people ended up being accused of being moles.

"I thought I was gonna pee myself! 'Course I couldn't let on I was laughing, or that I'd done it."

"No. I can imagine you'd have to keep it a secret."

"When we broke up, I promised Jack I would never tell anyone just what a pervert he is," Nina smiled. "I pride myself on being able to keep a secret."

* * *

To be continued when Nina stops talking! 


	6. Parts 6, 7 & 8

Part 6

Tony Almeida's eyes darkened menacingly as he sipped moodily and thoughtfully from his Cubs mug. Uck! His coffee was cold. His eyes darted back and forth as he glanced shiftily over the top of his monitor.

He refilled Cubby and dialled Mason's phone number, and for one terrible second, he imagined George pulling the phone out of his trousers. He shuddered. Nah. It couldn't be possible.

Over at Division, George moaned and pulled the phone out of his trousers.

"Mason!" He barked.

"Uh – George? It's Almeida."

"What do you want?"

"Uh – yeah," Tony rubbed his forehead. "I think there's something you should know about Jack Bauer."

Interested for a change, George sat up. "Tell me."

Tony did. Everything he knew. Some of what he suspected. And a few little bits that he'd made up on the spot.

"Where did you get this from?" George asked.

"Nina mostly. Is it enough to initiate a lockdown?"

"Ha! Ha!" George laughed nervously. "When our Nina has a few drinks she's such a little blabber-mouth, isn't she? What else did she tell you?"

"Not much, but I don't think she likes Jack's wife much."

"Hmmm. She's probably pissed because Jack left her and went back to Teri. Or, it could always be a lesbian thing. . ." George said hopefully, licking his lips at the images that sprung to mind.

Tony rubbed his forehead, also enjoying the mental images. "Uh – yeah. But, either way, we'll have to make sure to keep them apart at the next Christmas Party."

"Oh, I dunno. . ." George lost himself in the thoughts of a Yuletide chick fight - especially one that had lesbian and 'shared Jack' undertones along with the tinsel and lights.

George fought to regain his composure and came back to reality. "Did she mention me? Did she say anything at all about me?"

Tony decided to slip the ace he was holding back up his sleeve. "She never even uttered your name, George. Now, what about that lockdown?"

"Lemme think about it. I'll – call – you back. " George chuckled.

Stunned, Tony gripped Cubby for comfort. His heart was thumping, all thoughts of a lockdown, Jack ousted, and he - Tony Almeida - installed as the new director of CTU, slipped from his mind, to be replaced by the tempting, arousing thought of actually. . . .

No! He told himself fiercely. He wasn't that kind of guy. It was sick. It was disgusting. It was evil. It was – it was. . . . Oh fuck it! Everyone else was at it, why not him?

He quickly grabbed his cell phone, and rushed to Tech Room Four. Inside, he locked the door, set his phone to vibrate, and shoved it down the front of his trousers, and to be honest, with his hard on there wasn't a whole lot of room down there.

Come on, George. Come on. Oh God, George. Please. He whimpered and moaned and gasped in anticipation. Dial me, George. Dial me.

"Mmmmmfphhhh. Fuck! Oh yeah, George! Uhhhh! Yeah! OH GOD, GEORGE! YEAH!

To be continued when Tony gets his breath back!

* * *

Part 7

Everyone received the urgent memo from Division. It read - "Due to the heavy cellular traffic experienced by CTU recently, all private cell phones are banned within the workplace with effect from today. PS – Richard Walsh is dead."

(Richard Walsh lay dying on the steps of Dunlop Plaza, his life slowly ebbing away. Full of regrets, he reached into his pocket and took out his cell-phone and tried to dial Jack Bauer's number. One last time, he thought. But he died before he could finish keying in the number and his last thought was one of sadness that he hadn't put Jack on speed-dial).

"Yay!" George punched the air in victory. Walsh was dead! Now he could initiate that lockdown he'd promised Tony. He speed-dialled him at once to tell him the good news.

Over at CTU, once again locked in Tech Room Four, Tony Almeida leaned back against the wall, his trousers down, his cock in his hand and his cell-phone vibrating at double speed against his balls. He assumed it was George. He hoped it was George. If it was anyone who didn't know him then he didn't give a flying fuck. But if it was Nina then he'd know she was on to him and he was in a whole heap of trouble. If it was Jack – ewwwww!

"Oh God, George, let it be you," he moaned as he came again, the vibrations increasing the sensation as he pumped furiously and tried not to think about George Mason.

Meanwhile, Mr. I-Started-This-Whole-Phone-Sex-Thing Jack Bauer was sitting at his desk lonely, worried and frustrated. He held his phone in his hand, there was no point in putting it anywhere else because it never rang, or rather vibrated, any more. Jack wondered if auto dial would work.

He sighed. Nah. Auto-dial was a bit like a wank – lonely and sad, unless one's hand was numb. This day was turning out bad. Terrorists were plotting to kill a presidential candidate, his wife and daughter had been kidnapped and the people he worked with never called him any more.

Nina watched him. She still felt something for him. Not much, but something. Pity mostly. After all he had been the one to introduce her to it. She still felt the thrill of her phone tucked into her knickers. She'd asked Tony to 'dial' her number a couple of times and, surprisingly, he'd said yes.

"Yes? You really mean that?"

"Yeah. Sure," Tony lowered his voice. "As long as you keep it tucked in nice and tight - and let me screw you afterwards."

It was a small price to pay, Nina reckoned, as she made her way down to Tech Room Four to give Tony his promised shag.

To be continued in 5 minutes, okay 10, when Tony and Nina are finished!

* * *

Part 8

"Where's my Mommy?" Kim wailed.

"Mom? Dunno. I think George sent her down to Tech Room Four to talk to Nina. Have you seen my cell phone anywhere?" Jack was frantic.

He found his phone. Broken and crushed under the body of his wife. He wept tears of overwhelming, uncontrollable grief. He was also upset about Teri dying.

Nina was arrested. Just as they hauled her off, she whipped her cell-phone out of her knickers and threw it high into the air.

"WHOEVER CATCHES THIS CELL-PHONE GETS TO SHAG ME IN SEASON 2!" she yelled, cackling manically as they carted her off.

It turned over and over as it sailed through the air, almost in slow-motion. George leapt for it. Tony leapt for it. The new girl – Michelle Dessler - leapt for it. Jack was way too knackered and depressed on account of his wife and his own cell phone dying to even consider leaping for it.

But who caught it? That's the real cliff hanger? We have to wait until Season 2 for the answer to that question!

* * *

This will be continued real soon. . . . 


	7. Part 9 Season 2

Part 9

Addiction, Season 2

(Season 2 of Addiction is sponsored by your local cell-phone provider. Remember, before you dial, you should always ask permission to do so from the bill payer in your household. Dial and enjoy. Calls will be charged at premium rate. Parental discretion advised.)

President Palmer sat in his tiny rowing boat with his fishing rod gripped tightly in his hand. He positioned his cell-phone, licked his lips and waited. Any minute now. Any wonderful minute now. He glanced at his watch. It was a little after eight in the morning in L.A. and here in Oregon, so his phantom caller should be just about ready to call.

Ohhh, yeah. Right on time, baby! He moaned as the first text message of the morning came through. This had been going on for months. Some nut called George sent him about twenty text messages a day asking when he was gonna get his transfer to D.C.

President Palmer didn't know anyone called George, or anything about a transfer to D.C. and he didn't give a damn what the guy's beef was, as long as he kept sending the text messages.

At CTU, George finished sending his third urgent message of the day.

_Whn do I gt the transfr 2 D.C. u promised me be4 u got elected? U Bstrd!_

The first one has been to Tony - just a little call to let him know he was thinking of him, knowing that Tony was sitting out in the woodshed behind CTU's parking lot, his cell-phone rammed tightly against his balls, waiting. . . .

Hey! You know you could call me back now and then, Tony! I enjoy it as much as you. This doesn't have to be so one-sided, George felt like telling him.

But Tony was volatile. Tony's eyes grew dark and moody when he was angry. Tony frightened George a little when he got like that because George suspected, quite rightfully, that Nina had told Tony a few things about him. Things he wished Tony didn't know. Things he wished he'd never told nor shown to Nina, back during the two weeks they had dated.

The second call George made had been to Jack Bauer, dialling his house phone, not his cell, and getting his answering machine.

"Hey! When are you coming back to work? You can't use the old '_my wife is dead_' excuse much longer, you know. We've all used it at one time or another. Hell, I've used it twice and it is good for about a month or two but eighteen months is really pushing it, Jack. Jack? Are you there? Pick up. Oh, screw you then!"

Jack ignored the call. He didn't like phones much any more, but he knew that he would have to go back to work.

* * *

George, Tony and Jack walked into a bar. No, honestly. They did.

Tony ordered a beer. George ordered a whiskey. Jack ordered a Blue Lagoon. They took their drinks to a table in the far corner.

Jack took the little umbrella out of his drink and sipped thoughtfully at it.

"Okay. I've only just heard this. These three terrorists met in a bar. Paddy was Irish, but could just have easily been Welsh – Pierre was a French Canadian of vaguely Arabic descent, and not only did he want to separate Quebec he wanted to move it over to Bagh – I mean – somewhere in the Middle East - and Pedro was Mexican, and damned proud to be a terrorist, and not affiliated in any way with any drug cartels. I think. Anyway, they. . . ."

"This is a joke, right?" Tony asked him, giving George a worried sideways glance.

"Play along with him. I told ya he was nuts," George muttered under his breath.

"I can assure you that it is not a joke," Jack insisted. "It is extremely good intel."

"Right," Tony nodded.

"Anyway, they met in a bar and the intel I received is that they are planning an attack on the US."

"Oh, this is good, Jack. Go on," George grinned.

"I'm serious, George. Deadly serious," Jack frowned and took another sip of his Blue Lagoon. "These terrorists are planning to bring down the US by crippling the cell-phone network! They're gonna take it out. Completely!"

Both George and Tony stared for a second then burst into polite laughter.

"Good one, Jack! Love it! The best I've heard in a long while!" Tony chortled.

"Yeah! Brilliant joke Jack," George smirked and raised his glass in a toast. "But your delivery really sucks!"

"I'm serious!" Jack frowned.

This set them off again, and Jack got up and stormed out in disgust.

Still laughing, George and Tony finished their drinks.

"Want another?" George asked.

"Nah. Gotta go. Michelle . . . um . . . promised to uh . . call me."

So that's why he never dials me anymore, George realised with a sinking heart.

* * *

George was depressed. He'd tried Tony's cell once more but it was unobtainable. He took off his glasses, snapped shut his briefcase and decided to call it a day.

Tony stopped him as he was leaving.

"George? What's wrong? Where are you going?"

"I feel sick," he mumbled. "I'm going to Bakersfield."

"Why?"

"Why! Because I know a bar there and it's got pole dancers and lap dancers and ice cold beer! And cell-phones aren't allowed! That's why!"

"Okay. But why now?"

"Because Tony, at some point during the course of the day, Brad Hammond over at Division is gonna get a look at CTU's phone bill, and I DON'T WANNA BE INSIDE THE BLAST RADIUS WHEN HE DOES!" George yelled.

"Well, since it's on your route to Bakersfield, could you stop off at Panorama City and check out a vehicle for me?"

"Fuck off!"

* * *

Two hours later George, still in a foul mood, slunk back. He'd driven all the way to Bakersfield only to find that the bar was gone. There was a store that sold cell-phones there now. His mood worsened when he bumped into Tony and Michelle sneaking out of Tech Room Four. Her hair was a mess and she was buttoning up her blouse, and Tony had that I've-just-gotten-laid smirk on his face. Again.

George sighed dramatically and stomped up to his office where he planned on sulking there for the rest of the day.

Tony came into the office and tried to cheer him up. "Come on George. There's a vaguely Middle Eastern guy being brought in, and he might know something about . . . ."

"Is he from Quebec? Is his name Pierre?" George asked.

"Uh – no. It's Reza."

"Not interested. Now, get out of my office!"

* * *

To be continued when George cools down a bit! 


	8. Part 10

Part 10

George stared glumly down at the celebrations going on in the big room and thought - I'm dying. I'm dying up here and they are partying. Bastards!

He sighed. He was still depressed. If only I'd gone to Panorama City, he thought.

But Michelle had gone, at her beloved Tony's – his beloved Tony's – request and she'd foiled the whole nefarious terrorist plot, saved America's cell-phone network, captured Pierre and Paddy and came back to CTU the hero of the day.

At least Pedro escaped. That'll take the shine off her gold star, George thought meanly. Yay for Pedro.

Look at them. Everyone was drinking champagne, raising their glasses, speed dialling like crazy. And Tony – damn him - was all over Michelle like an Italian on Viagra. Pretty soon they'd smile at each other and slink off to Tech Room Four and . . . ah yeah, there they go. Right on cue. George had considered changing the locks but they'd only find somewhere else to do it, and at least in Tech Room Four there was some degree of containment.

It's disgusting, he thought. It's the twenty-first century and everybody does it by phone now. But not these pair. Oh no, they have to do it the 'old-fashioned' way. She takes her clothes off, lies on the table, and then he takes his clothes off, lies down on top of her and puts his . . . George shuddered. Animals! It's disgusting!

* * *

Michelle, her hair a mess – again - and her blouse buttoned up all wrong, slipped into the office with the updates that he'd demanded she bring him, deliberately interrupting her hot session with Tony.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"And so you should be!" George snarled. "What do you want?"

"I brought you the updates."

"And?"

"Well Jack busted Nina out of prison, and they . . ."

"Please tell me you're kidding?"

"No. I'm not. They stole a plane and were headed to Visalia but apparently they crashed, or were shot down, who knows. . ."

"Who cares?"

". . . and one of our Search and Rescue Teams, you know the 'heavily armed' ones that have no Search and Rescue training whatsoever, just happened to be in the area, and they recaptured Nina . . ."

"So?"

"Well, apparently Jack whispered something to her – something about voicemail - and she's been demanding asylum for both of them ever since."

"What can I say, the guy's a little crazy . . . but he needs a life . . . and if it's Nina he wants then who are we to deny him that?"

"Yeah, but . . ."

All the anger went out of George at that point. If Tony loved her, loved having real sex with her, then who was he to deny him that? He sighed heavily. "But what do you want Michelle? What are you gonna do tomorrow?"

"I – er . . ."

"I'm not usually a big advice giver but if you've found someone who makes you happy. Dial him. Do him. Whatever turns you and Mr. Almeida on - do it. Because everything else, it's all just a background ringtone."

"Er – okay," Michelle set the updates on his desk and backed carefully out of the office.

* * *

"Hey Tony? Got a sec?"

"What?"

"I'm outta here."

"Why?"

"I'm bored. I'm gonna retire. Take it easy. Learn to fish, surf the 'net, or something. . ."

"No. You're just mad because Michelle caught the terrorists and you didn't."

"Yeah, kinda. But I . . ."

"Look George, what we had meant something to me too . . ."

"We didn't have anything Tony, our cell-phones did."

Tony lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. There wasn't a lot he could say to that.

"Here," George held out his hand.

"What's this?"

"My old SIM card. I don't need it any more. Keep it and every once in a while think of me."

"Gee thanks George. Um – now you're retiring am I the new Director? Because if you don't appoint me, there are a few things Nina once told me about you that I'll bet Division would love to hear." Tony had carried that ace up his sleeve for a long time.

"I can't appoint you Tony!"

"No. But you could call Chappelle and get him to appoint me."

"Call Chappelle! That's disgusting! Okay. Okay. I'll do it."

George slunk back up to the office and dialled Ryan Chappelle. "Yeah, I'm quitting. Make Almeida the new Director. Why? Because Jack is nuts and is shagging Nina, and Dessler is - um – 'old-fashioned' and is shagging Almeida."

He hung up and was just about to leave CTU for the last time.

"GEORGE? WHERE DID YOU PUT THE DISK WITH THE ACCESS CODES? I CAN'T FIND IT!" Tony yelled.

He yelled back. "IT'S IN THE SECOND DRAWER!"

"AH. YEAH. I GOT IT. THANKS!"

"Idiot!" George mumbled as he walked out.

* * *


	9. Part 11

Part 11.

"Is he really gone?"

Michelle grew curious as she lay across the table and breathed deeply – in and out, in and out. Dissatisfied with the look she was trying to perfect she opened another button on her blouse and tried again. Big breathes - in and out, in and out. Yes, she smiled contentedly. That was much better.

She glanced at her watch and stifled a yawn. She was waiting for Tony to finish working his magic. They were back in Tech Room Four because now that he was the boss he could spend as much time as he liked there, and with whomever he liked. Of course Michelle made sure he spent any time he had with her.

"Who?" Tony raised his head.

"Mason."

"Yeth. He'th gone."

"Good. So, um, now that you're the hot, sexy new Director – oh, for God's sake Tony do it properly! It isn't rocket science! So, you'll probably be considering . . mmmmm . . that's good – uh - considering applications for a second-in-comm – down just a little bit more please. Yeah there! OH GOD YEAH! THERE! OH, THAT'S IT! JUST THERE. FASTER! MMMMMMM! OH, FOR FK'S SAKE DO IT HARDER! YEAH! THAT'S BETTER! YEAH! YEAH!"

* * *

"That was very good, Tony," Michelle sat up. She fixed her knickers and smiled down at the new Director of CTU. "You are really getting the hang of it, my darling."

"Well, practithe maketh perfecth," Tony saith ath he thmiled lovingly at her.

"Yes. Yes, it does. And we'll have to make sure with lots and lots of lovely practice," she patted his cheek, then opened the door, peeked outside to make sure now one saw her, and headed back to her workstation, leaving poor Tony on his knees, wondering when was it gonna be his turn?

He loved her dearly but it was all me, me, OH, GOD ME! with Michelle sometimes. Made him kinda wish for the old days when a quick phone call fixed everything.

He made his way back up to the office where Ryan Chappelle was sitting there in his chair, with the phone – his phone! – clutched tightly in his hand. Tony glared at him.

"Yeah, doesn't that feel good, Brad? Mmmmm, you like me talking you through it, don't you Brad? Didn't I tell you that getting a second cell-phone was a good idea?" Ryan was whispering.

"RYAN? EITHER FIRE ME OR GET OFF MY PHONE!" Tony yelled.

"Sorry. Gotta go. Call you later. Bye." Ryan jumped and dropped the phone quickly and had the good grace to look embarrassed.

He recovered as best as he could and stared up at Tony, changing the subject. "Um – I'm just looking over this application. Don't you think it's a bit sudden?"

"I love her. I've been dating her for three hours now! What's so sudden about it?"

"It is that serious! Wow! Okay, but taking a leave of absence so soon after your appointment which, by the way, I thought was a bit foolhardy even for George. . ."

"George and I go way, way back," Tony argued.

"So I've heard. So I've heard." Ryan nodded as the potential for a spot of good old fashioned blackmail loomed on the immediate horizon.

Tony saw it too. Not only did he see it looming, but he caught a glimpse of it zooming in, and it was no longer just on the horizon. It was now less than a hundred yards away and closing in, low and fast.

He wished Cubby was here, but the little mug was relaxing in the dishwasher, up to his cute handle in Three-In-One Powerball. Tony was all alone and vulnerable.

"Okay. What is it you want, Ryan?" he sighed.

Ryan pretended to think about it. "Hmmmm. Lemme see. I'll let you remain Director of CTU, pending – oh – pending assessment in – one month, if. . . ."

"If?" Tony's eyes narrowed.

"Let me finish," Ryan glared. "And, I will also approve your leave application for your - ahem – 'honeymoon' trip to Cyprus with Ms. Dessler. . .you are taking Ms. Dessler I presume?"

"Uh – yeah," Tony rubbed his forehead. "But she'll be Mrs. Almeida then."

"Cyprus?" Ryan frowned. "That's the place where they still make 8-tracks, isn't it?"

"Yeah. So?"

"No reason. Okay. I will let you get to keep this office, this position, this chair and this phone – and I'll even approve your leave application - provided you . . ." Ryan smirked - George's influence probably - and smiled up at Tony, ". . . call me."

"What!" Tony gasped. "Ryan! You can't mean that!"

* * *

To be continued but only if Tony agrees to Ryan's terms! 


End file.
